


More Than Words

by breeisonfire



Series: Shutter 'verse [10]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sick Stiles, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:42:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breeisonfire/pseuds/breeisonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can’t stay inside another day, Dad, I’m going insane,” Stiles says.<br/>“You know what’s strange?” his dad says, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re more relaxed about hunters coming after you than you are about <i>staying home when you’re sick</i>.”</p><p>Or, Stiles gets sick, Derek has to take care of him, and Stiles realizes he has an awesome boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Words

**Author's Note:**

> I would like you all to know that I am violently rejecting the ending of last night's episode. It didn't happen, I don't care, nope, nope.
> 
> Anyway, this is part 10 in the Shutter 'Verse. After this, I shall start a one-shot collection, and that will be continuous even after I start the next fic of the series. I'm not entirely sure what's going to happen after this, there's a general idea but nothing's plotted out yet.
> 
> And also, I'm not exactly an expert in EMT training, so I'm sorry if that's really badly written. Also, does EMT training include how to treat the flu, because I really have no idea.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://the-bookkeepers.tumblr.com/)! If you have any ideas or one-shot requests for the collection, or any random prompts you'd like me to fill (I've got some more projects coming), feel free to message me!
> 
> Beta'd by [whatthehale](http://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthehale)!
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: So [kamistrife](http://kamistrife.tumblr.com/) on tumblr gave me a few pieces of advice on the whole EMT training thing for Derek, so I've updated the fic to make it work better. You may want to reread it. No worries though, guys, there's still much to come!

Derek's been a werewolf his entire life. He was born one, and while he's still human, he's never experienced some of the things that normal humans do. Werewolves are stronger, faster, more durable, and have heightened senses. So there are things that he’s never had to deal with. Like hangovers, or long-term broken limbs, or asthma.

He doesn’t know _how_ humans deal with being so fragile, because he himself wouldn’t be able to stand it. Maybe it’s just because they don’t have the perspective. He’d asked Scott once, and Scott had shrugged.

“Man, it’s just the way things are. Asthma was a part of my life, I just accepted it.”

Which really sucks, in Derek’s opinion, and was part of the reason he’d sought out Erica. He’d seen how defeated she’d been, and he’d wanted to help. It hadn’t exactly gone as planned; but then, nothing Derek did ever went as planned.

Another thing he’s very glad he’s never had to deal with is the flu. He’d had a younger brother and a few cousins who were fully human, so he knew how it all went, but it had been a very long time since he’d had to deal firsthand with a sick human. He doesn’t quite remember how.

Apparently he’s getting a refresher course.

It started a few days ago. Derek’s been staying at the Stilinski’s house for the most part since the Gerard incident (he can’t be alone in the dark without panicking anymore; John is very understanding about this and never once made Derek feel unwelcome), and he noticed one day that Stiles’s scent was a little off. Stiles shrugged it off, saying he’s feeling a little tired, and he’s probably just getting a cold. He drank some orange juice at John’s insistence, and went to bed somewhat early.

The next day his scent was still off, but Stiles had repeatedly said he felt fine, and so Derek had just let him go to school. He’d had to go to the station (and then to class) anyway, and the fire chief’s been very understanding with everything that’s happened, but Derek doesn’t want to push his luck. Stiles had beat him home, and still insisted that he felt fine, even though he crashed on the couch before seven.

And now, Derek’s awake, it’s six in the morning, and Stiles’s alarm is going off. Stiles hasn’t made a move to turn it off, and in fact, doesn’t seem to have even woken up. Derek reaches over him and shuts the alarm off, and flinches when he feels how hot Stiles is.

“Jesus,” he whispers. “Stiles?”

Stiles moans. Derek can hear how congested Stiles is in his breathing, and reaches his hand up and touches Stiles’s forehead. It’s hot and sweaty, and Stiles flinches before coughing.

“Well, crap,” Derek says. He’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do here, and winces when he realizes he’s probably going to disturb Stiles when he gets out of bed. He does so carefully, and Stiles stirs, but doesn’t fully wake up. Derek sighs and walks out of the room and down to the kitchen.

John’s standing there, drinking a coffee, and he looks up when Derek walks in and sighs.

“He’s sick, isn’t he?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Derek nods. “He’s really warm. And congested. And shivering. He didn’t even wake up when I got up.”

John studies him for a few seconds before saying, “You don’t know what to do, do you?”

Derek throws his hands up helplessly. “Werewolves don’t get the flu.”

John snorts. “Wouldn’t that be great. I’ll give you a crash course, and then I really need to get to work.”

John shows Derek where everything he needs to take care of Stiles is, and sets up a humidifier in Stiles’s room. He pulls out all the medication Stiles could need, and gives Derek a quick guide to how much to give him and how frequently. He takes Stiles’s temperature, which is 101.3, and then has Derek wake Stiles so they can give him medicine. Stiles complains of a headache and a sore throat, and makes faces when they make him take the medicine. Then he goes right back to sleep.

“Don’t give him any caffeine,” John says as he takes the medicine back downstairs. Derek follows to make sure he doesn’t miss anything he says, though he keeps part of his hearing focused on Stiles. “He needs to stay hydrated, so lots of water, and I’m going to go pick up some Gatorade. Have him drink two cups of water, then one cup of Gatorade. Make sure you use a straw. You know the signs of dehydration, right?”

Derek nods. He’s trying his best to remember all of this. John nods back and says, “I might have Melissa stop by later. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you’re a werewolf --.”

“-- And don’t have experience in this,” Derek finishes. “I’d feel better if she did? Then I’d know whether or not I’m doing it right.”

John smiles. “Okay. Don’t let him do any research. He’ll get worked up, and distracted, and he needs to relax. In fact, don’t let him get on the computer at all. Just put on a movie. Don’t let him push himself too far. If he gets hungry, there’s chicken noodle soup in the cabinet. Either that or toast. If he throws up, make sure he drinks some Gatorade afterwards, but make sure he drinks it slowly. If it gets on the bed or anything, just bring it down and put it on the floor in the laundry room, I’ll deal with it when I get home. If he gets worse, call me first before you overreact, okay?”

Derek makes a face, but nods. It’s a fair point. He’s out of his comfort zone, and John knows how to deal with this. He’s showing a lot of trust by letting Derek stay there to take care of Stiles instead of doing it himself.

“Oh, and if he complains about being cold, don’t cover him up in more blankets,” John says. “It’s the fever, but covering him up will just make him warmer, and we want his temperature to drop. Wet some washcloths and put them on his forehead. And let him sleep.”

Derek nods, and John leaves. Derek goes back upstairs, and sits down in Stiles’s desk chair. Stiles is still asleep, although he doesn’t seem to be very comfortable, and though his heartbeat is strong, his breathing is loud. Derek’s really trying his hardest to not get worried, but it’s not working. He puts in _Despicable Me_ to distract himself, and keeps it on low to make sure it doesn’t disturb Stiles.

John brings Gatorade, more soup, more medicine, and a coffee from Starbucks for Derek before heading to work. Derek’s grateful for the coffee, and checks Stiles’s temperature to see it’s gone down to 100.6, which is good. He watches the rest of _Despicable Me_ , then puts in _Toy Story_.

He’s barely started that movie before Stiles wakes up and immediately starts coughing. Derek winces and grabs the water bottle he’d had ready for this. He helps Stiles take a drink of the water. Stiles makes a face as he lays back down and says, “Wow, I feel like shit.”

Derek winces in sympathy. Stiles’s voice sounds like shit. “Yeah, you’re sick.”

Stiles narrows his eyes at him. “I bet you’ve never been sick.”

“No, I’ve never been sick,” Derek says. “I _have_ , however, fallen off buildings and broken nearly every bone in my body. So.”

“It’s a trade-off,” for some reason, Stiles is snickering. “Do I prefer the flu or breaking all my bones? I’m going to go with neither, thank you.”

Derek snorts. “Go back to sleep.”

“You’re no fun,” Stiles mumbles, but he’s asleep again within minutes. Derek just shakes his head and turns to Stiles’s computer. Stiles has said he’s welcome to use it anytime he’d like. Derek has a laptop, of course, but he’d left it at his apartment the night before and he has homework for his EMT course he needs to do. He hopes Stiles gets better before he has to go to class. He’d opted for the fifteen-week course, so his class meets on Mondays and Wednesdays from 6:00pm to 10:00pm. He usually has those days off, except on the rare occasions when he's needed, but he's always let off for class, and he usually meets Stiles for dinner beforehand. He knows Stiles needs to rest, but he's sad that Stiles won't be well enough for that. It’s only Tuesday, though, and if he _is_ still sick Wednesday night, other pack members or Stiles’s dad will be able to check up on him.

He wishes the EMT course covered the flu, because that would have been extremely helpful at the moment.

Derek opens the laptop, and just stops and stares at the screen, because he’s not expecting what’s there. Apparently Stiles forgot to log off last time he’d finished. And he’s apparently been working on a project.

There’s a folder open. It’s _filled_ with pictures, and what’s more interesting is Derek recognizes all of the pictures. They’re all Snapchats of his face he’s sent to Stiles, over the past couple months. They’re all labeled with a date and then something like ‘my favorite confused face,’ and ‘he looks really good in this picture.’ Derek scrolls through them, and he can’t help but grin at the names of them, and suddenly wishes he’d done this with Stiles’s Snapchats. He doesn’t know why Stiles has decided to keep them all, but he’s overcome with a strange kind of fondness for Stiles.

Which disappears three seconds later when Stiles sits up and grabs the giant bowl sitting on the bed next to him, and throws up. Derek immediately plugs his nose before the smell can make it anywhere near him, and says, “You okay?”

Stiles just kind of moans into the bowl, sounding horribly miserable, and Derek grimaces.

He cleans out the bowl and opens the window to get rid of the smell before grabbing the bottle of water and holding the straw up to Stiles’s mouth. Stiles takes a sip, then lays back down, grimacing.

“God, I hate being sick,” he grumbles. Derek doesn’t know what to say, and just reaches a hand out, running it through Stiles’s hair. Stiles leans into the hand and closes his eyes again. Derek leaves his hand in Stiles’s hair, and looks over at the computer, still open on the desk. He thinks Stiles might have some sort of plan with the pictures, and he’s determined to come up with something in return. Stiles is _great_ with presents, and Derek’s not so good, but he will figure something out, because Derek has a lot to be grateful for now and a lot of it is because of Stiles.

With that in mind, he leans back and starts _Toy Story_ again. He’s got some planning to do.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The only good thing about being sick is that generally everyone wants to make sure you feel better. It’s good for the first day, to have Derek and his dad taking care of him, and to just lay in bed with his boyfriend and watch movies. The second day, however, Stiles is fed up with lying in one place, and he wants to get up and run around in circles. Derek just raises an eyebrow when he suggests this.

Derek can’t stay with him all day, because he has class (and Stiles literally _whines_ about not getting to go to dinner with Derek), but Stiles’s dad is able to stay, and no one listens to Stiles when he says he doesn’t need anyone to stay with him. It’s infuriating, but there’s not much Stiles can do about it.

Besides, he _does_ feel really crappy, and his dad comes and watches _Galaxy Quest_ with him, so he’s not going to complain too much.

And when Derek gets home around ten-fifteen lokoking somewhat excited, and starts telling Stiles a story of how he’d got the highest score on the exam, Stiles just grins as he leans back and listens to him talk. He’s glad Derek’s doing better. He still has a haunted look in his eyes if it’s quiet for too long, and there have been  _plenty_  of nightmares that he doesn’t remember when he wakes up (and the cold  _still_  sets him off; Stiles thinks that’s forever going to be a thing and he’s  _never_  going to get his hat back), but he seems to be okay. 

Thursday, he’s feeling good enough that his dad decides that he doesn’t need a babysitter. That doesn’t stop him and Derek from hiding all the caffeine and sugary snacks, but Stiles is too tired to really do anything other than sit on the couch and play solitaire with _Doctor Who_ playing on Netflix. He’s going to have so much homework to make up, because finals week is coming, but he can’t bring himself to care. Scott comes over after school with the homework, and they do what they always do when one of them is sick: they marathon _Harry Potter_. Stiles falls asleep halfway through _Prisoner of Azkaban_ and wakes up in his bed, Derek on one side of him and Scott sprawled out on the floor.

He’s extremely annoyed when he’s told he’s not allowed to go to school on Friday.

“But, Dad!” he says, ignoring how hoarse he still sounds. “It’s _Friday_! Pack night! If I don’t go to school, I can’t go to movie night.”

“Stiles, you’re still sick,” his dad says. “And Derek, Scott, and Isaac might not be able to get sick, but Allison, Danny, and Lydia still can.”

His dad pauses and frowns. “Can Lydia still get sick?”

“Good question,” Scott pipes up from where he’s eating cereal. Stiles throws him a dirty look. Derek’s already gone; there was a fire at a Burger King, and they need as many firefighters there as possible. Stiles knows Derek’s good at it and more durable than most of the firefighters, but he still worries, and he’s irritated, and he _really_ wants to leave the house. He’s climbing the walls.

“I can’t stay inside another day, Dad, I’m going insane,” Stiles says.

“You know what’s strange?” his dad says, a thoughtful look on his face. “You’re more relaxed about hunters coming after you than you are about _staying home when you’re sick_.”

Scott snorts and starts choking on his cereal. Stiles laughs, too, and says, “You knew I was strange before any of this even started. I don’t know why you’re surprised.”

His dad shakes his head, grinning, and says, “You’re still staying home.”

“But Dad,” he can hear how whiny he sounds, and doesn’t care. Scott smirks at him, but Stiles just ignores him.

“No buts,” his dad says. “And just to make sure, I’m taking your keys with me.”

Which is even more annoying, but Stiles throws up his hands in surrender, and goes into the living room to lay down on the couch. Scott comes out a few minutes later and says, “I gotta go, dude. See you later.”

“Yeah,” Stiles sighs, and listens to him leave. His dad comes in and stands behind the couch.

“You need anything?” he asks. Stiles shakes his head.

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay,” his dad says. “And I’m serious. Don’t push yourself, okay?”

“I won’t,” Stiles sighs.

“Good,” his dad says. “I’ve got to go, because apparently the manager of the Burger King that caught fire has started a fight with some of the firemen for whatever reason.”

Stiles snorts. “I hope he hits Derek and Derek kicks his ass.”

His dad grins at that. “That would be interesting. Love you, kid.”

“Love you, too,” Stiles says, and then his dad leaves. Stiles stares at the ceiling for about twenty seconds, then groans loudly.

“This sucks.”

He gets up and grabs his computer, before going back downstairs and settling down on the couch. He’s just going to do his homework, so he doesn’t have to worry about it over the weekend.

That’s his plan, but he falls asleep before he even finishes anything, and wakes up somewhat disoriented when the front door opens. He’s confused and it takes him a few seconds to realize where he is. He looks at the clock and sees it’s almost three in the afternoon, and groans.

“Good to see you, too,” Derek’s voice says from the direction of the door, and Stiles pushes himself up to see him walking towards the couch.

“I’ll say good to see you if you promise to rescue me,” Stiles says. “I am _bored_.”

“Rescue you how?” Derek says, leaning over the couch.

“Get me out of here,” Stiles says. “Take me to movie night with you.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Who said I was going to movie night?”

“I did,” Stiles says. “And you’re taking me with you. We literally just covered this.”

Derek rolls his eyes and straightens back up. “Nah, I told Scott I wasn’t gonna leave you alone tonight. He agreed. I think Lydia’s got some sort of plan, but I haven’t been informed of it yet. I need to go shower.”

“Have fun,” Stiles calls after him. Derek just shakes his head as he walks up the stairs. Stiles stares at the ceiling, and feels stupidly happy that Derek’s not leaving him alone. He feels somewhat bad that Derek’s missing movie night, too, but mostly he’s just glad he’s not being left out.

He gets up and gets a bottle of water, because he hasn’t drank anything all day and he doesn’t want to get lectured, and then eats some toast. His stomach doesn’t complain this time, so he takes it as a good sign. He goes back into the living room and starts working on his paper about Julius Caesar.

Derek comes down several minutes later, and sits down on the couch next to Stiles. He leans over and looks at Stiles’s screen.

“Why does your paper start with ‘Sit the fuck down and let me explain you a thing?’” he asks curiously.

“I start all my papers with that,” Stiles says. “And then I erase it before I turn it in. It helps me focus. Don’t judge.”

“I’m not judging,” Derek says. “I _am_ , however, going to start using that.”

Stiles grins, and then says, “How’s your class going, anyway?”

Derek shrugs. “Good. It’s a lot of information, but the instructor really knows his stuff, and it’s not like it’s too vigorous. The other students are smart, too. I like it.”

“You think you’d go on to become a paramedic?” Stiles asks, because he’s been reading up on this and it’s really interesting to him.

Derek hesitates, then shrugs. “Probably not. I’m good with being a fireman with EMT certification. But it’s always a possibility.”

Stiles nods, and settles back to do his homework. Derek digs out his own laptop and does his own homework. It’s quiet for a couple of hours, and then the door opens. Stiles is expecting his dad, but instead Scott’s voice calls out, “Yo! We bring chicken noodle soup and ginger ale!”

Stiles turns and stares as he sees the rest of the pack come into the living room. He stares at them, somewhat confused, and says, “Uh, hi?”

“Wow, we’ve made him speechless,” Lydia says, giving him an innocent look.

Stiles just makes a face at her, then says, “You know you could get sick, right?”

“It’s movie night whether you’re healthy or not,” Lydia replies. “Just don’t cough on me.”

“I love you, too,” Stiles deadpans. Lydia laughs and drops a bag of food on the table.

“We went and got Panera,” Scott says. “Since I know you like their chicken noodle soup. And we brought _Catching Fire_.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything for a second, too overcome with affection for the pack. Then he flops back on the couch and says, “Holy shit. I love you guys.”

“We love you, too, Stiles,” Allison says, and then drops a handful of napkins on his face.

“Thanks,” Stiles says.

They get the food out and Scott puts the movie in. It’s quieter than usual. Stiles still feel somewhat sick, and isn’t as energetic as usual. Allison ends up entertaining them anyway by informing them that she is to be called Katniss from now on. This makes Scott frown and ask if he’s Peeta or Gale. Stiles rolls his eyes.

By the end of the movie, Stiles is falling asleep on Derek, and his dad, who got home while Finnick was giving Peeta CPR, kicks everyone out. Stiles manages to stumble up the stairs with help from Derek, and settles down on the bed.

Somehow Derek manages to get out of bed to go to the station the next day without waking Stiles, and he wakes up around one in the afternoon. He’s somewhat irritated, because it means he missed lunch with Derek, which is always fun, but he cheers up when his dad says he’s allowed to go the next day.

Derek again manages to get out of bed the next day without waking Stiles, but he’d set an alarm, and wakes up with two hours until he has to meet Derek. There’s a note on Stiles’s mirror that says ‘Meet me at the deli? - D’ and Stiles grins as he gets into the shower.

He pulls up at the deli five minutes earlier than he usually does, and gets out of his Jeep, leaning up against it. Derek pulls up ten minutes later, and Stiles, in his excitement to get out of the house, practically knocks Derek over with a hug. Derek snorts as he catches his balance on his Camaro, and says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Stiles says. “I’m free!”

They walk into the deli and order, and then sit down. Stiles is so glad to have something to eat that isn’t soup or toast that he nearly eats his sandwich too fast, until common sense kicks in and he realizes that he _really_ doesn’t want to throw up. Derek’s watching with a small smile on his face, and then suddenly leans forward and says, “So you kept all of my Snapchats, huh?”

Stiles freezes. How the _hell_ did Derek know about that? He feels himself turning red and says, “Uh, yeah? Sorry?”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Don’t be. I was just wondering why?”

Stiles takes a bite and chews it slowly, trying to figure out how to word this. He swallows and says, “Well, it’s kind of an interesting story.”

Derek gestures him to continue. Stiles sighs and says, “Okay. So a while ago, you sent me a picture on Snapchat? I don’t think it was on purpose. And it was of you. And you were laughing.”

Derek blinks and says, “I remember that. It was supposed to go to Cora, but my hands were shifted, so I accidentally clicked your name.”

“How do you accidentally click my name?” Stiles squints at him.

“Your username and Cora’s both start with s,” Derek replies. “Remember?”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Hang on, how did you use your phone with your claws? Actually, you know what? I don’t want to know.”

Derek lets out a laugh and says, “Okay. So what does this have to do with you keeping my Snapchats?”

“Well,” Stiles says slowly. “I only saw it for ten seconds, and I was kind of upset that I hadn’t screenshotted it. Because you looked really happy in it, and in a way that I’d never seen? And you looked...really good? So I set out to make you laugh like that again. And then you started showing all these different expressions, and then I wanted to catalogue them all, because you didn’t used to show them, and I liked them, so I started screenshotting them all, and uploading them to my computer. They’re on a flashdrive, too, so I can keep them. I like them, too, because they’re kinda a timeline of our relationship.”

Derek’s looking at him with something like affection on his face, and says, “Huh. I thought you were going to make something with it.”

“Well, I _could_ , but I don’t know what,” Stiles says. “Maybe a collage?”

Derek grins. “No, it’s okay. But going along that subject, I actually have something for you. Meet me at my apartment if you’re feeling up to it later, okay?”

“Something for me?” Stiles blinks at him. “Really? What?”

“It’s a surprise,” Derek says. “My apartment, five-thirtyish, okay?”

Stiles nods, then narrows his eyes. “How the hell did you find that folder, anyway?”

“I tried to use your laptop to do my homework on Tuesday,” Derek says, looking apologetic. “It was already open.”

Stiles thinks this over, then nods. “Okay. You’re forgiven. Especially because you have a present for me. What is it? Am I going to like it?”

“I hope you like it,” Derek raises an eyebrow. “Patience, grasshopper.”

“Did you just Master Po me?” Stiles stares at him. “You’re adorable, I’m so proud.”

Derek just throws his napkin at Stiles, who cracks up.

At five-twenty, Stiles is heading up the stairs to Derek’s apartment, wondering what the hell Derek could have gotten him, and enters the apartment. No one else is there, which is actually somewhat surprising. It’s usually where the pack hangs out when they’re free, and there’s usually a couple of them there. Stiles thinks Derek probably warned the others, and sits down on the couch to wait for Derek.

Derek walks in ten minutes later, and grins at Stiles when he comes in. He puts his stuff down on the dining room table and points at Stiles. “Stay there. Close your eyes. No peeking.”

Stiles laughs, but does what he’s told. He hears Derek open a door, and wishes for a second he had werewolf hearing, if only to get some sort of idea what this present is. He waits, and hears the door close again, and then Derek clears his throat and says, “Okay, you can open them.”

Stiles opens his eyes, and sees Derek is holding what looks like a picture frame. He raises an eyebrow. Derek grins and turns the frame around so Stiles can see what’s in it.

Stiles stares. It’s a painting of _him_. Not just a painting; it’s a _great_ painting. Stiles had known Derek was a talented artist, but _this_ is amazing. It’s of Stiles, sitting on the hood of Derek’s Camaro. He’s leaning back on his arms with his eyes closed, and he got his head turned upwards with a small smile on his face. He’s wearing a white tee-shirt and jeans, and his hair is sticking up in its usual style.

“Wow,” is all he can say, because _damn_.

Derek’s suddenly looking shy, like he’s not sure what to do with himself. He clears his throat and says, “Um, remember when we went to the park a few weeks ago? You kind of did this exact pose, and I took a picture, and when I looked at it, I wanted to paint it, so this happened. I kind of did it in a hurry, but I think it turned out pretty good.”

“It’s _awesome_ ,” Stiles says. “ _Dude_. I didn’t know you were so good. _Jesus_. Can I hang that up in my room?”

Derek blinks, then grins. “Uh, yeah. You can do whatever you want with it, it’s for you.”

Stiles grins and stands up before taking the frame in his hands. He looks at the painting, then puts it down on the table before moving forward.

“You’re still sick,” Derek points out as Stiles pulls him towards him.

“You’ll be fine,” Stiles grins. “You’re a werewolf.”

Derek laughs, but it’s cut off when Stiles kisses him. It’s a hungry kind of kiss, nothing further than what they’ve already done. Stiles knows Derek’s waiting until he’s eighteen to go further, both because of Stiles’s dad and because of unpleasant memories, and as badly as Stiles wants it, he’s not going to make Derek do anything he doesn’t want to. So when Derek pulls back, Stiles lets him.

“So, you liked the painting, then?” Derek asks, and Stiles blinks before cracking up.

“Yes, I liked the painting,” Stiles is laughing so hard he puts his forehead down on Derek’s shoulder. He doesn’t move after he’s caught his breath, because Derek’s got his nose buried in Stiles’s hair, and Stiles is content to just stand there for a while.

Which is of course why the door opens, and Danny’s voice says, “Oh, _shit_ , sorry.”

Stiles starts laughing again. Derek starts laughing, too, and Stiles feels Derek turn his head to the door.

“Don’t worry about it,” Derek says. “We’re not doing anything. What’s up?”

“Um, my little brother spilled soda on my little sister’s computer,” Danny says. “And she’s been yelling at him for an hour now. I needed to get out of there, so I was hoping to study here? I can go somewhere else, if you want, though.”

“Nah, it’s cool,” Stiles says. “Dude! Look what Derek painted for me.”

Danny’s eyes go wide at the painting, and he says, “ _Whoa_. That’s amazing.”

“Right?” Stiles says, and beams at Derek, who looks embarrassed. He just grabs Derek’s hand and squeezes it before sitting down on the couch. He keeps the painting in his lap, and when Scott and Allison show up twenty minutes later, can’t help but show it to them, too. Derek sits next to him, looking more and more embarrassed as Stiles talks about it.

It’s nothing compared to the look he gives Stiles when he hangs the painting up in his room later, right above his desk where he can see it easily. He has to take down a poster, but he doesn’t care. It’s the perfect place for the painting, and Stiles wouldn’t want it anywhere else. He tells Derek this much as they lay down to go to sleep.

Stiles turns out the light, but the dark doesn’t stop him from seeing the smile on Derek’s face. Stiles grins as he starts to drift off, thoughts of the painting and Derek going through his head.


End file.
